


making new clichés on our own little tour

by ringerxo



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, American Politics, Angst, Blow Jobs, Elections, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Office Sex, Rap Battles, a.ham is hopelessly the same, george hanover is actually king george the third, laurens is hopelessly in love, named phillip hamilton, shower sex (mentioned), started as a PWP but now we're here, there is a turtle plushie in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 11:24:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6852688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ringerxo/pseuds/ringerxo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander Hamilton has thrown himself into Washington's campaign, but he forgets about John. Misunderstandings lead to make-up office sex.</p><p>(Started out as a PWP jam session on Facebook and turned into this.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	making new clichés on our own little tour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eclipse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eclipse/gifts).



> Written over the course of a week and partly in Facebook chat. Thank Yaara for the existence of this.
> 
> The frenetic nature of elections and how things transpire in the field on election day are drawn from my personal experience. Not the post-election office sex, though, but I've heard it happens pretty frequently.
> 
> Title is from Troye Sivan's [for him.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pv8e2oLW0v0), which I listened to on repeat during the last part.
> 
> Any mistakes are my own. Any inconsistencies are because I posted this at 2:37 AM.
> 
> Lin, if you're reading this, I apologize.
> 
> Edit: I mistakenly tagged a relationship here as Aaron Burr and his daughter. I apologize for that as well and would like to express my indignation that it even EXISTS AS A RELATIONSHIP TAG WTF.

Dawn arrived in New York City. In an airy warehouse loft, a curly-haired figure burrowed his head under the pillow and sighed, nuzzling the sheets that smelled faintly of sandalwood and felt entirely too clearn. His toe twitched, as if to test the air, but didn't escape to under the covers, mostly because it, along with the rest of his body, knew what was coming.

As if it was cued off, a klaxon ring shredded the silence, masking the soft snick made by a propellor being flicked off an alarm clock sitting on the table in the living room. Groaning, the head of curls emerged from under the pillow to peer out the wall of windows to his right. The sun wasn't blazing, but then again, it was November. The most the sun could do now was lie to him.

And it did; the loft was still drafty, because, well, it was a loft. Sighing, John - the owner of said curls, called Laurens by his friends and Johnny boy when Alex was feeling lucky - threw the covers off and placed his feet on the floor. The shock of the cold floor, coupled with the persistent wailing of the alarm clock, spurred him into moving. Padding into the living room, he squinted, searching for the neon green propellor so he could put it back on the alarm clock and shut it up. Luckily, their living room was nearly wallpapered with blue and white silouette posters of the same stern, compotent face, with WASHINGTON 2016 stamped in various positions, so the green was easy to spot, resting on an old pile of newspapers.

John sighed and picked it up, wincing at the newspapers. He blamed the lack of sleep, but he could swear they were dusty. Alex had bought them during the final debate, excitedly ripping the pundits to shreds, and when he had put down the last paper with a flourish, John had proceeded to manhandle him into the shower (the first one he had in a week) and fill his mouth with moans instead of words for the first time in a very long time.

John sighed again and flicked the coffee machine on. Today was it. Election Day. Alexander hadn't been home for a week at least, snatching naps in between strategy meetings in the headquarters and penning furious speeches that Burr ironed out and Washington only used now as suggestions (a practice that drove Burr up a wall and made Alexander giggle). Since Alex had suspended his law internship to join the Washington campaign trail full time, he really did devote every waking moment to getting the venerated Virginian general into the White House, against all odds.

John, on the other, couldn't afford to scamper off and eat tacos for breakfast in no-name towns in the Midwest, just because he believed in it. He had worked his ass off to get into Cooper Union (since his father wasn't paying for any degree that wasn't law, in a Southern state, and interspersed with Young Republican meetings) and missing classes wasn't an option - well, not anymore, since all his free passes were used up occupying the Dean's office when they started talking about charging tuition for the first time since the college was established.

However, today there were no classes, and John was scheduled to spend all day with Angelica and Eliza in the Village's main park, handing out flyers and buttons and getting people to vote. (Alex seemed vaguely concerned that John wanted to be out campaigning and not holed up in a heated headquarters with him, but then when John sang "I want to be where the people are" and Alex just raised an eyebrow at him, John pointed out that Alex wouldn't be very good company, especially if he was so distracted that he didn't get Disney references as easily.) They were set up with amps and a generator, as well as a table and snacks and possibly the trashiest playlist ever. Eliza was bringing a little camping propane burner so they could brew hot drinks. It was gonna be AMAZING.

After downing the first cup of coffee, John poured himself another one and drank it in the shower. It wasn't even 6 yet, but he had to pass through headquarters to get gear, and Angelica was staking out their spot already, in anticipation of Hanover campaigners being dicks about it.

Maybe I'll see Alex, he thought, drying off his hair and tying it back into a tight bun. Hope flared in the pit of his stomach, a hot, bright flash not unlike lust, and he quickly thought of George Hanover's smirking face to stave off any potential boners. The Republican candidate worked wonders against his boner, and he sighed. Not only did he not have time to take care of himself, he was sick of it.

It wasn't that Alexander wasn't up for it, John thought glumly as he wound a scarf around his neck, tucked an errant curl under his knit cap, and shouldered his backpack.

It's just that he wasn't there for it.

\---

"Burr, what the fuck are you waiting for?"

John heard his boyfriend's hollering voice the moment he stepped foot into the frenetic hive of activity that was the Washington Headquarters. His face broke out into a grin and he navigated past the several harried staffers dividing dizzying piles of campaigning material into ready-made election packs for volunteers to take. After nearly toppling a pile of mugs and offering a tissue to a young man in a white WASHINGTON '16 shirt who burst out in stress-induced tears, he finally reached the door to Alexander's office, opening it and immediately ducking as a stuffed turtle flew out the door and into the side of Lafayette's head. The tall, smoothly complected man just muttered something to himself in a dark tone, grasping a huge mug of coffee, and continued walking past the war zone that was the speechwriters' realm.

"Alex," John called cautiously into the office, hiding behind the wall just in case, "how often have you thrown Phillip at people this week?"

"This was the first," Aaron Burr's voice came floating out the office, and John rolled his eyes. Burr, on their busiest day, still sounded calm. John would give anything to hear him rattled.

Leaning down, John retrieved the turtle, a gift to Alex on their nine-month anniversary, and peeked past the threshold. Burr was standing close to the door, and Alex was pacing the floor behind their desk, muttering to himself in Hebrew.

Dropping his bag by the door, John hurried behind the desk and grabbed Alex's shoulders, stopping him in his tracks. "Alex, look at me," he urged him, and Alex did, liquid chocolate eyes blinking once, twice, and then--

"I'll go check on Mulligan," Burr said hastily as Alex lurched forwards and kissed John soundly, smiling mouth meeting curved lips.

John wrapped his arms around Hamilton's neck, sighing into the kiss, which was all he had time for before Alex pulled back and looked at him, confused.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, looking frantic. John's smile dimmed a bit and he unwound his arms.

"Picking up flags and buttons and flyers," he said, smile as bright and as fake as a fluorescent bulb. "Meeting up with Ang right after." Alex had gone back to his laptop already, leaning over to type something furiously; John wanted to tuck his hair back behind his ear, make him change into a clean sweatshirt, something, but there wasn't any time. Now was not the time.

"I'll see you later, Laurens," Alex said absently, scrolling through Twitter and waving at the door. John, who was still behind Alex and not at the door just yet, stifled yet another sigh and left to collect his election pack.

\---

"Can you blame him, though?" Eliza inquired, sipping a cup of hot cocoa. It was instant, but it was warm and free and they were all huddling around the camping burner; John was attempting to dry out his gloves after spilling hot cocoa on them.

The day was not turning out well. First Alex swooped in for what seemed and felt like the kiss of a century (or once in a century), only to be distracted by Twitter, again; then he nearly gets run over by a Hanover-poster-clad car, and now the gloves.

"Yes, I can," John muttered. "First of all, he must be the only staffer who hasn't fucked someone in the offices."

Eliza and Angelica looked at each other, shrugged with identical conspiratorial grins, and then looked back at John, who couldn't help but grin a bit as well.

"And I've offered. Several times. In actual explicit words, because he's so overtaken by rhetoric that he can't take interpreting it right now if it isn't a veiled attack ad."

Angelica tutted sympathetically and Eliza grasped his shoulder. "Sorry, Laurens," she said. "But it'll be over soon."

"I know," he said. "But these months have been damn well lonely." Just then, his phone beeped - an incoming email. Flicking the screen on, his eyes widened when he saw who it was from.

"It's the admissions office, guys," he said, and the sisters huddled even closer, peering at the screen.

\---

He was biting a freckled shoulder, water sluicing over them, listening to John moan, when someone tried to choke him to death. Or, more accurately, when Lafayette walked into his office and over to Hamilton's sleeping form, sprawled out over the table with a hand on his stomach and the other one dangling off the desk, and shoved a bagel with lox and cream cheese into Hamilton's open, slightly snoring mouth.

"Eat," he said serenely, as Hamilton coughed his way awake and bolted upright, hand automatically going to the bagel so it wouldn't fall out of his mouth as he chewed.

"I'm 90% sure I didn't tell my brain to chew," he mumbled past the sandwich, avoiding Lafayette's piercing gaze. "I think it's my body's defense mechanism against dying."

"Talking smack about your psyche doesn't impress me," Lafayette said archly, hands crossed on his chest. "I'm not paying you a frankly ridiculous amount of money to belittle yourself. Now eat."

"Was it Burr who made you feed me?" Alex asked, a frown sneaking past the bagel, partly because of his suspicion and partly because that dream was the most action he had gotten in the past few weeks.

"No, it was me," the tall man said, sighing and texting at the same time. He raised his head to look at the bagel and then back at Alex, raising his eyebrows. Alex took the hint and took another bite, chewing dutifully.

"Was it John?" he said hopefully. The corner of Lafayette's mouth rose in a smirk and he shook his head, texting again. Locking his phone, he looked up and hummed, satisfied that Alex had glommed roughly two-thirds of the bagel already.

"Now that I've fed you, Alexander," Lafayette said calmly, folding his arms across his chest again and making Alex wince at the use of his full name, "I get to rip you a new one for not keeping your promise to me."

"I warned you about the food, Laf," Alex mumbled around the last bite of bagel. "I'm not good at this."

"You, apparently, suck at relationships, too."

Alex paused. "What makes you say that?"

"When was the last time you stopped and thought about John?"

"I'm sorry," Alex snarked, "is John Laurens running for president?"

Laf mimed wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb, inclining his head towards Alex, and his hand immediately went up to the corner of his mouth, catching a bit of cream cheese. He glared at Lafayette for ruining his tough guy line as he licked it off his thumb.

"No," the other man said, "but I've read him for the past few weeks, and Herc tells me what happens at their meetings. Alex," and here he softened a bit, "John isn't a politician. He's brilliant, and positively adorable, and the best thing to happen to you since me, but there's just so much he can take."

"Of what, Laf?" Alex said testily, hopping off the desk and walking past Lafayette, heading for the coffee corner in the main area and forcing Lafayette to follow him. "What have I done to alienate my dear Laurens?"

"Nothing."

Alex raised an eyebrow in triumph as he spooned instant coffee into the least stained WASHINGTON '16 mug and followed it with a scant sprinkle of sugar and hot water. "There you go."

Lafayette shook his head, leaning against the partition next to the fridge. "No, Alex. I mean that you've done nothing. At all. You've thrown yourself into the campaign, driven yourself off the edge of sleep deprivation several times, and haven't even been back home this past week. And you did all this without explaining anything to John. You haven't discussed it with him at all."

"If I was him, I'd've been out the door weeks ago," Hercules said, dashing past Hamilton to grab the last muffin from the plate on the counter. Taking a big bite out of it, he chewed and swallowed before he said, "In fact, you have me and Laf to thank for the fact that he hasn't done it already."

They both turned to look at Alex with twin looks of deep reproach; Alex, who was sipping from his coffee (black), held up the mug and hid his face behind it. "Please stop," he said, his voice small. "You're making me feel like I stole from Burr's super-not-secret good ramen stash again."

"You deserve to feel that way for a bit," Hercules said, peeling the paper off the rest of his muffin. "Laf and I consoled Laurens at least twice in the past month that you don't hate him and you definitely still love him and no, Washington isn't leaving Martha for his speechwriter."

"At least he's a lightweight," Lafayette grumbled, "otherwise I'd bill you for getting him drunk, because let me tell you, your Laurens is loyal as fuck. It takes alcohol to get him to complain about you."

"He was mopey and getting everyone on the field teams down," Herc said, muffled by his muffin-filled mouth. Swallowing, he looked at Alex again, who was sipping his coffee and avoiding their gaze; his shoulders were drooped.

Hercules looked over at Lafayette, who nodded at him; they've laced into him enough for now, it was time to push him in the right direction.

"Alex, I'm going out to give out sandwiches to our volunteers, wanna come with?" Herc asked him, dropping the preachy tone from his voice.

Alex finished the rest of his coffee and shrugged. "Sure," he said, subdued. "And before you two start clucking at me, you haven't broken me. It's just not a fun thing to realize."

"We know, Alex," Laf said, grabbing the rest of the muffin from Hercules's hand, earning an indignant 'hey!'. "That's why we're telling you about it now, and not saying 'I told you so' after he walks out on you."

"He's done you a world of good, and we like him."

"Only one who's put up with your shit long enough," Lafayette added.

"You guys have," Alex pointed out.

Lafayette glanced at Hercules. "Have you slept with Alex, Herc?" he inquired. Herc shook his head. "I know I haven't," Lafayette said. "Also, none of us have been romantically involved with you."

"What about that night after graduation?"

"The first rule of Graduation Night," Lafayette and Alexander chorused together, and Hercules reluctantly joined them for the last part of the adage, "is that we NEVER SPEAK OF GRADUATION NIGHT AGAIN."

\---

"This, my dear Eliza," Angelica said smugly, "is what 'lit' means."

The crowd in the plaza had grown; a rare moment of winter sunshine had broken through, and someone from HQ had been smart enough to drop by and bring them some serious speakers. As of right now, they were holding an impromptu block party in the middle of the Village.

There were a couple of food trucks doing mad business on the outskirts of the park, flyers and banners were everywhere, and a few feet away from them, John was flying through a rap battle with a group of teens that had just gotten off school a few blocks down.

"Sue me!" Eliza exclaimed, throwing up her hands. "What context did I have for it besides my job? Jeez."

Angelica shrugged and watched as one of the quieter teens, barely 5 feet tall and slight of build, was pushed forwards by her friends. She accepted the microphone and motioned for John to start them off; he fired off a few bars, accepted the cheers from the crowd, and fired off a few more. Jumping around the circle, one hand in the air, the crowd was set on fire by him, and him by them. His eyes were sparkling, his smile wide.

Someone tapped Angelica on the shoulder. She turned around and saw Alex huddled into his coat, grinning as he watched John. "Alex!" she crowed and gave him a one-armed hug. "You're right on time to see your man kill it."

John ended his verse with a flourish, and the crowd applauded, whistling and whooping. He bowed, and then turned to the teen--

Who cleared her throat, shifted the mic to her other hand, gave a dazzling smile, and proceeded to fire off rapid-fire lyrics that had everyone gaping, except her group of friends, who were beside themselves with glee, slapping each other on the back and cheering her on.

When she finished, she gave another angelic smile, handed a shocked John the mic, and went back to her friends. The crowd was going wild; John knelt on one knee (Alex's heart clenched) and offered her a campaign button. She accepted it with a grin, and the crowd dispersed, chatting about the battle.

"No, Ang," Eliza said, coming up on Alex's other side and giving him a one-sided hug as well, " _that_ was lit."

John was handing out buttons and flyers to the last of the audience when he spotted Alex. A brilliant smile bloomed on his face and he bounced over, throwing his arms around Alex's neck and giving him a tight hug.

Alex, who had spent the past half hour worrying that John wouldn't even want to talk to him, returned the hug a bit too late; his arms were still around John's waist as the younger man pulled away and peered up at him.

"What are you doing here, Alexander?" he asked, out of breath, eyes shining from the rap battle.

"Herc and I are doing the rounds," Alex automatically said, and John huffed out a laugh, looking over Alex's shoulder to see Herc chatting with a couple of elderly men, handing them flyers and flashing his award-winning smile. "Listen, John, we have to talk--"

"Ooh, potential voters!" John said and, wiggling out of Alex's grasp, bounded over to a group of pensioners on the other side of the plaza.

"Alexander," Angelica said, squeezing his shoulder, "don't worry. He's been like this since-- ow, Eliza, but yeah. He should be the one to tell you."

"What? What is it?" Alex asked, panicked. But Eliza and Angelica would only shrug, with infuriatingly mysterious smiles on their faces.

"Nothing about that reassures me," he grumbled, and Angelica's expression lost its levity.

"From what John tells us about the state of your relations the past month, it's him that deserves reassurance, Alex," she snapped. "You don't deserve him." And with that, she stalked off to talk to Herc.

"She's kinda right, you know," Eliza said, munching on a carrot stick she produced from her backpack.

Alex resisted the urge to scream.

\---

Night fell over the city. The block party in the plaza continued, but John was packing the folding table into the van that Herc was driving. People were jamming and hanging out - in smaller groups, it was a chilly November night after all - but the campaign was packing up and heading to HQ to wait for the results.

John's heart was racing, his blood was thrumming, his nerve endings were sparking. He was on edge in the best possible way. Since the acceptance letter had arrived via e-mail (and Angelica had insisted on spiking his hot chocolate in celebration), he could swear he was floating an inch off the ground at all times, except when that girl had bested him in the rap battle.

And then seeing Alex didn't help much. John paused for a moment, smile faltering a bit.

Alex looked _awful._ The bags under his eyes had their own bags, he could barely smile, and then he said that they had to talk in that small voice that made John want to wrap him up in a warm blanket and feed him soup and rub his back and croon old country songs to him.

So, and he wasn't proud of this part, instead of actually talking to him, he escaped under the guise of campaigning, and pushed off The Talk. He really didn't want to capitalize it, but Alex had looked so down that John felt like it was capitalized anyways.

He hoisted himself into the van, a frown on his face. Angelica, climbing in after and sitting on top of a pile of folded banners, smacked him on the arm. "Snap out of it, Laurens!" she yelled. "This is a happy day!"

But John couldn't keep up a fake smile this time. He was tapped out, emotionally and physically. He was scared, and elated, and tired, and awake, and he just wanted a beer. Or a hot chocolate. Or shower sex. Or all three.

Soon enough, they arrived at HQ. The building was lit up, banners and bunting covering the exterior. Herc parked, and a swarm of workers was outside in seconds, unloading the van with impressive efficiency. "They all want promotions," Herc explained to a very impressed Eliza.

John hopped out and, shouldering his backpack, darted into the building, ignoring Angelica calling his name. The dread was climbing up from his gut, and he needed to find Alex before it took over his ability to properly articulate his feelings.

Pushing through the crowd of people eagerly craning their necks to watch the screens scattered around the room, John broke down the situation in his head. If Alex broke up with him tonight (throat closing, heart stopping), he would drink his sorrows away and throw himself into his master's program to forget him. If he didn't want to break up with him... well, what was the talk about?

 _And if anything, you should be the one breaking up with him,_ a sneaky voice that wasn't entirely unlike his father whispered in the back of his head.

Shaking his head, John pushed past another knot of excited people. He wasn't vindictive. He wouldn't let this come between them.

 _But who's to tell if it stops now?_ his father's voice continued. _How do you know that he won't find a cause more important, more interesting than you? Will you ever be his priority?_

"Do I need to be?" John countered loudly. "Isn't that a little ego-centric?"

No one paid him any mind; it was election night, everyone spoke to themselves at one point or another.

Huffing with frustration (and to distract himself so that he won't start tearing up), John reached the edge of the crowd and barged into Alex's closed office, saying "Alex, I don't want to break up with you!"

There was a pause, and then--

"Well, that's a relief," Aaron Burr grumbled from behind the desk, where he was sitting on the floor, Skyping with Theodosia. "Because that little pipsqueak has been fretting about you all day and if I'm writing an inauguration speech with him, I need him sane."

"I--" John started, and Burr sighed, unfolding his legs and standing up.

"I'll go use Washington's office," he said testily. "He's out with the people anyways."

"You don't have to," John began saying, but then he saw Alex in the doorway and stopped talking. Burr rolled his eyes and pushed past Alex, not before clapping him on the shoulder.

\---

The click of the door closing sounded like a gunshot to John. He avoided Alex's eyes, taking off his backpack and sitting on the desk before daring to look up at his boyfriend, who was looking at him with glassy eyes and the most forlorn grin John had ever seen Alex wear.

"What's wrong?" they said at the same time. Alex motioned for John to start.

"I've missed you," John said simply. "And I don't know if I'll stop. Will I?"

"What?" Alex breathed out, confused.

"You... shut me out," John said, and it was the hesitance with which he said it that did Alex in.

"I never--"

"What was this campaign, then, just another stage in this relationship? I should have known it would be this way?"

"It's politics, John--"

"Politics doesn't mean the end of relationships, Alex."

"Then why do you want to end this one?"

John's eyebrows rose. "ExCUSE me?!"

"You've been ignoring me all day--"

"ELECTION day--"

"And how do you think I would feel--"

"All fucking month, Alexander!"

"What--"

"YOU ARE LUCKY YOU HAVE LAFAYETTE ON YOUR SIDE, ALEXANDER." John was panting with fury now, on his feet, and jabbing his finger into Alex's chest for emphasis. "He and Herc gave me the politics talk. They told me how things like this work, how you lost yourself in causes in college before you met me, how you'd be writing like you were running out of time, and how--" his voice broke, he cleared his throat, and continued, voice slightly wavering, "how you love me. How important I was to you."

"And you don't believe them?" Alex whispered.

"I do," John said, "but why did it have to come from them?"

Alex blinked. "Does it make a difference?" he asked, lost, and John snorted.

There was a moment of silence, and then they both started laughing. John turned his head, wiping a tear away even as he whimpered with laughter, and Alex just grinned, harder than he'd grinned for weeks.

When they calmed down, Alex leaned forwards, but John stopped him with a hand over his mouth. "Alex," he said, his eyes still dancing but the rest of his expression serious, "from now on, we communicate. You tell me these things. It doesn't come from Laf, and it doesn't come from Herc."

"How about Washington?"

"Baby girl, if you're channeling your relationship issues through the president elect, you have some serious communication issues. Which would be sad, since you're on his communications team."

Alex smiled and finally leaned forwards, slanting his mouth over John's with a sigh. His hands went to John's waist, pulling him against him; John's hands went to Alex's hair, carding his nails gently over Alex's scalp and generally tangling themselves in there.

John bit down on Alex's bottom lip, earning a whimper from the other man, and pulled Alex's hair a bit. The whimper turned into a moan, and the kiss turned from an expression of love and devotion to an open-mouthed, biting, war of tongues and teeth and breath.

Alex walked forwards, crowding John against the desk, devouring his boyfriend's moans with greedy kisses. He was relearning him, his mouth, the way he whimpered with that break at the end when Alex sucked on his bottom lip, then nibbled it, then swiped it with his tongue. How John's hair, collected in a tight bun, looked the best when Alex raised his hand from John's waist and pulled a few strands free. How John's freckles made him want to count them all, or kiss them all, or both.

When they broke apart, John was panting for all the right reasons. Alex licked his way down John's neck to his pulse point, biting down gently and then sucking a hickey into the freckled skin there.

"Ah-- Alex," John sighed, hands on Alex's shoulders. "Fuck, yes. That's-- ahh--!"

Alex grinned as his fingers flicked at John's nipple through his shirt. "That's it, my dear Laurens," Alex murmured, then bit off a cry of his own when Laurens opened his eyes, the gorgeous hazel-gold hazed over, and with a wicked grin placed his hand on Alex's erection.

One, two, three rubs over the jeans and Alex was fully hard. "Should've done that after you took my pants off," he breathed into John's ear before licking the lobe. John shuddered and quickly unbuttoned Alex's jeans, pulling the zipper down gently; Alex did the same for John, stealing a kiss as his hands fumbled on John's zipper.

"It's as if you never fucked someone in a hurry," John murmured with laughter in his voice. Alex rewarded him with a sharp nip to the jaw, which made John giggle and Alex indescribably happy to hear that sound again.

He finally got John's jeans down, and pushed down John's boxers, dropping down to his knees. "Alex, what-- jesusholyfuckfuck."

Alex would grin, but he had the head of John's cock in his mouth at the moment and didn't want to employ teeth. So he just licked at the head, then sunk his head down a bit more on John's cock, and sucked, swirling his tongue around John's shaft.

John was gripping the desk with whitened knuckles, staring down at Alex's bobbing head. He could feel something tightening, too quickly (but it's been ages, and emotions were involved), so he regretfully stopped Alex with a hand on his head.

"Alex, come up here."

Alex looked up at John with his cock still in his mouth, making John groan, and slowly drew his head back until John's cock _pop_ ped out of his mouth. He licked his lips and got to his feet.

John shoved down Alex's boxers, pulling him towards himself and slamming his mouth against Alex's, licking and biting his way into Alex's mouth as he grasped their cocks together and began to thrust. Alex moaned, hands on John's ass, as he rutted against him as well, movements jerky and hurried.

They were like teenagers, rutting against each other, but by then John was too far gone to care. And then Alex pulled back and looked at him with those unfathomably deep chocolate eyes and whispered " _ahuvi_ ", and John tipped over the edge, coming with a sob. He could dimly hear Alex's voice catch as he followed after him.

They stayed there for a few moments, catching their breath, foreheads leaning against each other. "We should probably clean up and get out there," Alex murmured. "Lafayette warned me that I had to talk to Burr tonight for more than 3 minutes straight."

"Thanks for telling me that, Alex," John said, and then his eyes widened. "I forgot to tell you!"

"Now who's the shitty communicator?" Alex teased, grabbing a tissue off his desk and cleaning them both up. John pinched his side, making him yelp.

"I got accepted to the master's program," he said, eyes shining. Alex threw the tissue into the bin and kissed him soundly, not caring that their boxers and pants were still down and that they were both a mess.

"I'm so proud of you, John Laurens."

"I love you, Alexander Hamilton."

"We love you both, now zip up and come out here!" Lafayette called through the door, and the couple in the room dissolved into giggles again.

**Author's Note:**

> *I wouldn't dare to try and write rap lyrics, so I tried to describe a rap battle without actually writing rap. I wouldn't do the genre justice in any way.
> 
> *Ahuvi = my love in Hebrew. Fun fact: actual real person A.Ham knew fluent Hebrew and could recite the Ten Commandments in the language, because the Jewish school in Nevis was the only one who would accept a bastard.
> 
> *The park they campaign in is Washington Arch, but I couldn't use the name, could I. (Writing modern-set Hamilton fics in New York is HARD)


End file.
